


The Milk of Human Kindness

by PersephoneTree



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Gentle Sex, Oral Sex, Season Finale, Season/Series 01, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 09:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20905124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneTree/pseuds/PersephoneTree
Summary: If this were acting class she’d tell him frankly that he’s holding back.-----Set during S1E8, in the months between Sally's peptalk at the bar and the trip to Gene's cabin.





	The Milk of Human Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> ...yet do I fear thy nature;  
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness  
To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;  
Art not without ambition, but without  
The illness should attend it.
> 
> -Lady Macbeth, Macbeth Act I Scene V

Sally leads, every time.

Sometimes, after he leaves, she clicks her vibrator to its highest setting and masturbates furiously, lets the frustration push her over that final edge. 

The first time, it was sweet. Barry was flustered and flattered and _ new _, and she took what she needed from him without shame.

But now… 

He’s always eager. He goes down on her without hesitation, lapping at her clit, working two fingers inside her until she’s messy and moaning. There’s a stain on Sally’s ceiling shaped like Florida that she stares at until she can’t stand it, pats his head so he can surface. He beaches himself on her body and asks “Is this okay?” before he enters her. He moves against her gently, setting a cautious rhythm, and every time she has to grab his ass, pull her heels up against his sides and goad him to the pace she wants. 

If this were acting class she’d tell him frankly that he’s holding back. That they’re partners and she needs him to give her more to work with. She thinks of her Macbeth, how the grief in his voice and his blue eyes had flooded her senses. The rush of it so intense that the Bard’s words spoke themselves, a necessary release. That’s what she wants from him, every time, all the time. She knows he can do it. She just doesn’t know how, or why he can’t seem to do it offstage.

Sometimes she makes Barry lie on his back and she rides him, selfishly, eyes squeezed shut. When she opens them he smiles up at her, closed-lipped and hopeful — _ is this good am i doing it right _ — and she has to smile back.

It feels wrong, weird, a little sick, but sometimes she thinks about Sam. How he’d hold her so close she could hardly breathe, her name a broken groan as he came. How he’d fuck her like she was the only thing he’d ever wanted that much. _That doesn’t make what he did to you okay_, she reminds herself each time, _and_ _Barry would never hurt you like that. He would never get mad like that._

Sometimes she wishes he would. Not the abuse, god no. She isn’t _ that _ sick. But, well… eagerness isn’t the same thing as passion.


End file.
